Finding Joy the Hard Way - part 1
a four part sci-fi adventure
Finding Joy the Hard Way
I slumped deeper in my seat on the return shuttle from Jupiter Station, back to where my ship was being worked on. To anyone looking, I was sure it appeared I was taking a nap, but my proximity alert algorithm automatically assessed everyone nearby.
Of all the places in the galaxy I’d visited, the Alpha System was my least favourite. This solar system was where humans had first stepped off the generation ships. Everywhere I turned, this pompous history kept being shoved down my throat. If I spotted another informational hologram ever, it would be too soon.
Nothing interesting was allowed to happen here. I should know. I grew up on the outskirts the Protectorate’s capital of New Haven. I’d left at the first opportunity and never looked back.
But now I was here on purpose—to have my engine room fully automated. Keeping up with maintenance on my ancient water tanker (my home) was becoming an issue. I needed more automation installed, or I would have to hire a second engineer, which would result in more people underfoot. I prized solitude above all else. Hank the Hippo—you know, that comic book character—was the only company I needed. (And he wasn’t even real!)
My ship was berthed at a less-than-upstanding dockyard constructed in one of the bigger asteroids orbiting closer to the sun than New Haven. By ‘less-than-upstanding,’ I meant they worked on ships not pretty enough to dock at Jupiter Station, the spaceport above New Haven. Plus, they did adequate work for cheap—exactly what I needed. I was sure they had all necessary permits to operate.
The mechanics estimated the upgrades would take two days, so I had headed to Jupiter Station to find it as stifling and boring as ever.
On the positive side, my side quest had netted me a treasure: a statue of one of Hank the Hippo’s friends from the original Old Earth comics. I now had a Joy the Stork. I patted the pocket that contained the statue. Joy was a big grey bird that always wore a dorky smile and a big bow on her head. (How it stayed on was beyond me.) The statue was a perfect addition to my collection.
A jarring ping roused me from my ruminating. We were almost at the dockyard. If my luck held, the work on my ship would be complete, and I could leave right away, but I wasn’t optimistic, as mechanics always needed more time and credits than they quoted.
As I disembarked the shuttle and entered the cavernous main space of the dockyard, I pictured where I’d fit Joy on my shelf of Hank’s friends. In hindsight, I should have paid more attention to what was going on around me.
Not ten metres into the dockyard, someone slammed into me from behind.
Without enough time to even curse, I sprawled forward, barely avoiding a face-plant. Instead, I landed hard on my shoulder and hip. The salty copper taste of blood filled my mouth where I’d bit my cheek.
On impact, the Joy the Stork statue had escaped my pocket and skidded across the floor. Its derpy face spun in and out of view, its grey moulded feathers matching the floor almost exactly.
“Crap!”
Ignoring a spike of pain radiating through my shoulder, I launched myself at my prize.
A pair of little boots beat me to it. A child reached down and snatched up the small statue. I didn’t glimpse their face before they bolted off.
I tried to rise and give chase, but my hip said no. Cursing, I lost my balance and fell a second time. Someone grabbed my upper arm and pulled me to my feet.
“You okay?”
I really wanted to chase after the kid, but I did the socially correct thing and turned to the woman who’d helped me.
She wore the coveralls of a mechanic, and dark smudges marred her brown skin. Her shoulders wider than most, she clearly contained a lot of brute strength.
“Thanks.” I smiled, baring no teeth.
“You gotta watch out for those kids.” She pointed to where the child had vanished. A cherry red scarf tied around her head hid every strand of hair. “They’ll steal the clothes off your back if you’re not careful.”
I pursed my lips. This was a bargain-basement maintenance facility, but feral children seemed a stretch. “Why are kids running wild in a dockyard?”
She shrugged. Her wide-set eyes and round face gave her an honest look. “Stowaways. They’ve been here a few months. We think they’re living in an older section of the base that was supposed to be closed off.”
“Has anyone checked on them?” I asked. Surely there was an arm of the Protectorate that would swoop in and corral feral children before feeding them and sending them to cozy homes.
“Darla Oswiu,” a man called, preventing the mechanic from answering.
I opened my mouth to ask a second time.
“I gotta go. Happy to chat later. I’ll be at Chen’s Noodle Shop after shift.” The mechanic darted off before the newcomer reached us. She hadn’t told me her name.
I frowned at the short, bald man who approached. Even though we hadn’t met, I knew he was the owner of the spaceport. “I’m Darla.”
“Ah, good.” He smiled as he stopped so close to me he had to tilt his head back to make eye contact. “I’m Basil Baker,” he said, and I couldn’t help but picture Hank the Hippo’s tiny, neurotic friend Basil the Bat.
“What do you want?” My tone was harsher than I’d intended, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“I wanted to inform you we have finished the engine upgrades on the Virdis, and the engine room is now fully automated. According to Protectorate regulations, you no longer need a rated engineer on your crew.”
I nodded, declining to mention I hadn’t had a properly certified-to-Protectorate-standards engineer on my crew since I took over running the ship years ago. “Am I good to leave?”
Basil gave a curt nod. “Your ship is clear to go. However, you paid moorage for another thirteen hours, so there’s no rush.” He gestured to the far wall where a couple of pathetic-looking shops lurked. “Why not peruse what this facility has to offer?”
“Where’s Chen’s Noodle Shop?”
“Down there.” Basil pointed down a corridor. “It’s not open yet, but the shops are.”
After Basil rushed off to his next task, no doubt assuming I’d spend my credits on overpriced refurbished equipment, expired snacks, or dusty trinkets, I headed to my ship. The loss of my newly acquired Joy statue weighed heavily on me. Even though it was just a hunk of coloured plastic, the Joy statue, like Hank the Hippo’s face, made me smile.
I didn’t encounter any of my crew as I made my way from the cargo bay past the living area and up toward the bridge. At the doors to the bridge, I turned right and entered the captain’s office—my cluttered, chaotic office.
Most of my treasures were there, along with an oversize desk that faced a worn love seat. A loss of gravity wouldn’t have made the space any messier. Stepping inside was like being enveloped in a cozy blanket; my stress melted away.
At my desk I activated my Hank program, and the life-size cartoon hippo appeared across from me.
“Should I give the word to set sail?” I asked, using Old Earth terminology. My water tanker didn’t have even a solar sail, but the wording felt right.
Hank put his chin on my desk and looked at me with liquid eyes. Of course, he said nothing—he was a hologram of a cartoon character that wasn’t linked to a speaker. I sighed.
“No. We have twelve hours left. There’s time to get Joy back.” I stood and ran my hands down my thighs as I tried not to think about the kids living in the old part of the station. Protectorate child services would take care of them.
I exited the ship and made my way to the station’s solitary noodle establishment.
Whoever owned the place loved sparkles. Inside, glittery surfaces created a cacophony of shiny. There was even a constellation of twinkling lights glued—I looked closely—no, taped to the ceiling. The owner had sprinkled iridescent fake snow over a plastic tree in the corner, creating a scene worthy of an antique postcard.
What the place didn’t have was patrons.
“Hello?” I called at the empty counter.
“Hi.” A short man came from the back. His food-stained apron suggested he was the cook. “Off shift early?”
“Um, no, just waiting for my ship’s repairs to be done.” I sat on a barstool covered in sparkly vinyl. “I was going to meet a mechanic friend at the end of her shift.”
He nodded and looked at the wall clock. “They’re off in fifteen. Can I get you something to eat in the meantime?”
Despite the glitter, the restaurant smelled like the spicy food I loved most. My mouth watered. All I had on the ship was bland meal bars. A board on the back wall listed the food items on offer: spicy noodles, noodles in Unami broth, fried noodles.
“I’ll have the spicy noodles,” I said.
“How spicy do you like them?”
“Extra.”
I slurped my noodles until the mechanic I’d spoken to earlier arrived. She smiled when she saw me, then took the barstool next to mine.
“The fried noodles here are fantastic,” she said. “Chen does a great job.”
“I’m Darla, by the way.” I hoped spicy noodle sauce wasn’t splattered over my face.
“Noora.” She waved at Chen, and the cook vanished into the back. “So, I hear you’re the captain of that water tanker.”
“Yeah, that old ship has been in my family for over a century.”
“Well, they run forever, and there’s always a need for water,” Noora said. “It must make for a nice, calm life.”
I nodded. “Works for me.” I leaned forward as Chen slid a plate of fried noodles in front of Noora, making me regret not ordering a plate myself. (Yeah, I’d already eaten a bowl of noodles. Still.)
“When do you leave?” she asked as she shoved a forkful of noodles in her mouth.
“In the morning.” I did my best to act casual. In my defence, I avoided sharing meals with other humans. Noora seemed okay, though. “I was hoping you could show me to the unused section of the station where the kids are.”
She scrunched her nose. “Why?”
“One of them stole something from me.” I noticed Chen standing in the kitchen door with his head cocked like he was listening in. “An heirloom. I’m willing to pay the kid to get it back.”
“Basil won’t like it if I take you there,” she said between bites. “Plus, he’s been threatening to cut off the air supply.”
My jaw dropped. Chen flinched.
Noora scratched the back of her neck. “That’s a bad idea. I know that section of the station isn’t needed and is leaky as shit, but…” Her words trailed off.
“Do you know how many kids there are?” I asked, still not believing Basil would casually murder children.
She shrugged. “A dozen or so.”
“Why doesn’t he call someone from the Protectorate to help them?”
Noora pulled herself up straight and stared at me. “He can’t afford all the fines.” She frowned. “I mean, a lot of what we’re doing doesn’t follow regulations.”
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that getting Joy back was the priority here. Then I’d leave an anonymous message about kids in peril and find a new dockyard to work on my ship.
“Can you show me how to get there?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to lose my job.” She stood, a bleak expression on her face. She sighed, then turned to the cook. “Chen, can you put both our meals on my tab?”
“Sure thing,” he said with a toothy smile.
“Nice meeting you,” Noora said, then left without giving me a chance to thank her for the meal.
to be continued…